


Whisky Vérité

by moistdrippings



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Dogs, Drinking, First Time, Flexible Sexuality, M/M, Post-Œuf, Psychoanalysis as Foreplay, Season/Series 01, WhiskeyBottomWill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24379123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moistdrippings/pseuds/moistdrippings
Summary: Post-Œuf, Will drinks whiskey and turns his analytical and empathetic eye on Dr. Lecter to get his mind off murder.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 53
Kudos: 346
Collections: Hannibal Fic Recs (Hannigram), Whiskey Bottom Will





	Whisky Vérité

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the short story category of FannibalFest's Whiskey Bottom Will challenge; thank you so much to the organizers for giving me the inspiration to finally write again (and, of course, to Mr. Fuller himself for providing the fandom with the inspiration behind the challenge), and thank you also to everyone who beta read this for me for letting me feel confident enough to share it.

“My car’s in the driveway,” Will said reflexively as he opened his front door, already stepping back to let Hannibal into his home. He regretted it as soon as he said it. He sipped whiskey from the glass in his hand, feeling rude.

“I saw,” Hannibal agreed. He looked immediately comfortable in Will’s home, and the dogs came to his hands, snuffling for food. Will wondered how much time he had spent with them. “Rather than drive back an hour, though, I thought I might greet you. How was your trip?”

Will thought about the dead children, the dead mothers, the whiskey he’d already put away. “I’ll talk about it on Thursday. I need time to process.”

“Of course.” Hannibal removed his coat, and Will knew that he should move to take it, but he couldn’t think of where to put it right away. Instead, he watched Hannibal fold it over his arm, absently patting Winston with his free hand. The motion looked mechanical. “Your dogs were well behaved.”

Will nodded, belatedly shutting the front door. He gestured with his tumbler. “Sorry I didn’t call to let you know I was back. Would you like a drink?”

Hannibal smiled and sat in one of Will’s armchairs. It wasn’t the tight smile he normally pulled, concealing the majority of his emotion, but something that reached his eyes, just a little. “No, thank you. I have a Burgundy waiting for my dinner at home.”

Will sat across from him, pulled by routine into their usual position. “I wasn’t expecting guests tonight,” he said, as though his tousled hair and unbuttoned shirt didn’t speak volumes; as though he expected guests on any usual night. “You’ve caught me off guard.”

Hannibal’s smile spread, just fractionally, and Will felt a strange warmth around him. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“I think you did,” Will said. He drained the last of his whiskey, letting it wrap around his tongue. “You got a look at my house without me in it, and you got curious.”

Hannibal tipped his head, as close to confessing to a lie as he would get. It didn’t bother Will; it was a small lie, and he didn’t cover it once caught out. “You’ve seen through me.”

Will felt his own mouth pull into some grotesque mimicry of a grin. “You’re not easy to read, but you don’t hide your pleasure well. Or your desire.”

Hannibal’s brows rose, but his smile remained. “Does it bother you?”

Will wasn’t sure how to answer. He didn’t dislike it, but it felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Liquor rose up through his throat and took control of his tongue: “You’re not straight, are you?”

The smile didn’t disappear, but a hollowness came to Hannibal’s eyes. Caution. Consideration. He took his time before responding. “I don’t ascribe to any particular label, but it would be inaccurate to call myself heterosexual.”

And there it was. It hadn’t been at the forefront of Will’s mind, but it was a curiosity that had probed at his subconscious since he had met Hannibal. Confirmation brought the thought forward, and Will felt an axis tilt as facts settled into place. He thumbed at his glass, warm from his palm, vividly aware that it would be rude to pour himself more while his guest had none.

“Have I done something to make you uncomfortable, Will?”

“No, no,” Will said quickly, shaking his head. He felt momentarily dizzy, reeling as much from his own misstep in the conversation as from the drink. “Of course not. I think– I think maybe I’ve had too much to drink to be polite. I’m sorry.”

Hannibal spread his hands before him, leaving his coat draped over his thighs. Will watched the coat instead of his hands. “Don’t be sorry. You’re drinking in your own home, and it’s our first time meeting outside of a professional setting. It’s only that I didn’t realize you had any particular interest in my own interests.”

“It’s not on purpose,” Will said, sighing deeply and leaning back into his chair, trying to relax. “I’m just… not very good at ignoring signals.”

“I haven’t meant to send any signals.”

“No, you didn’t mean to,” Will replied. He looked at Hannibal through half-lidded eyes, tired and bold, aching to focus on anything other than death. “It wasn’t anything in particular. A look here or there, but your eyes don’t linger. You’re respectful of boundaries, but you have made a particular effort not to touch beyond that. You’re aware of your masculinity, and you use it, but you don’t force other people into their boxes. You _want_ , but you don’t _chase_. It’s all very gentlemanly.”

“I can be ungentlemanly, if you’d prefer. For the moment, that is.” Hannibal folded his hands across his lap. “If your curiosity is nagging at you, I can answer your questions.”

The possibilities burst forth in Will’s mind like stars across a galaxy. He hadn’t thought of questions. There were infinite options. Part of him thought he was being tested, that there was a correct one to ask, or that this was his opportunity to put the lid back on the box he’d opened. He wasn’t sure he wanted to pass. He rolled his shoulders, displaying a comfort he didn’t feel. “Any question?”

Hannibal gave a curt nod. “Within reason, of course. There are certain details I wouldn’t share with anyone who wasn’t personally invested.”

Will brought his thumb up, pressing it against his lower lip as he considered the options. He watched Hannibal watch him, noting a gesture Will hadn’t shown him before. “You try to project asexuality, don’t you? It puts people at ease, but it’s not real.”

Hannibal tipped his head again in agreement. “It can be difficult for some to open up to a professional if they see them as motivated by sexual urges. I always strive to make it easy for my patients to divulge what they need to.”

“But it’s not just to your patients,” Will said. He pulled his thumb from his lip, pointing his empty glass at Hannibal. “You’re like that with everyone. It’s clean. Sanitized. There’s something under the facade.”

“I’m not asexual, no, but neither am I a beast who cannot control myself.”

Will shrugged. “Didn’t say you were. I just can’t help but wonder what does govern your attraction.”

At that, Hannibal’s chin tipped up. He didn’t smile again, but the hollowness was gone from his eyes. “Interest. Something different from the usual.”

“So you’re attracted to a person’s mind, is what you’re saying.”

“I appreciate physical beauty as well,” Hannibal said. “I’m not above that.”

“But a pretty shell isn’t enough.”

Hannibal said nothing, merely looking at Will with that pleased expression.

“And it isn’t just intelligence.”

“I wouldn’t be interested in a horse if it could talk, no.”

Will laughed, a single burst of air surprising itself out of him. “Not unless it had some complex psychological insecurities, I’d imagine. The broken ones are more fun.”

“You aren’t broken, Will.”

Will swallowed, and the lump in his throat hurt going down. In a flash, Hannibal had removed all abstractions from the conversation and zeroed in on what Will had deliberately avoided. “I’m an unstable hermit with seven dogs who spends his days looking into the minds of murderers. My trust issues have trust issues. If I was happy and– and _normal_ , I’d be boring.”

“I don’t think so.” Hannibal leaned forward, and the space between them felt exponentially smaller. “There’s more to you than your nightmares, Will. If you could shed them, you’d still have my attention.”

Will swallowed again, but this time it went down smooth. He felt open, exposed, though he was the one probing Hannibal this time. He pulled his eyes away, unable to look at Hannibal any longer. He felt hot, watery, and a little drunk. “You say that now.”

He felt as much as he saw Hannibal lean away again. The air didn’t seem any clearer for it. “I wouldn’t play with you like a toy.”

Will felt, with sudden certainty, that Hannibal did view some other people as toys. He wasn’t particularly bothered by the idea. “I am straight.”

“As a friend. I wouldn’t push you into more.”

Will wasn’t sure what to make of the displeasure that answer gave him. He squirmed slightly, trying to shake it off. “The sexual and romantic don’t always intersect for you, do they?”

“Not often, no,” Hannibal admitted. He seemed entirely at ease with the detour the conversation was taking. “They are different pleasures I can enjoy together or apart.”

Will licked his lips. They were dry, but they tasted of whiskey still. “I guess what I want to know is which you feel about me.”

There was a moment of silence. Buster shuffled around at Will’s feet, the other dogs milling about as they continued settling from the arrival of an unexpected guest.

Will felt his chest tighten as it stretched on.

“I’m not sure answering that would benefit either of us,” Hannibal said eventually. “I’d hate to strain our relationship. I’ll do my best to contain myself in the future–”

“It’s okay,” Will said, his eyes snapping back to Hannibal. “You’re not doing anything inappropriate.”

“There are many who would call this entire conversation inappropriate.”

Will huffed, suddenly feeling exasperated. “When did you start caring about people like that?”

“I don’t. I only want to spare you.”

“Don’t,” Will snapped. “If I’m not broken, don’t treat me like I am.”

Hannibal looked down, just for a moment. “You’re right, of course.”

“It’s romantic, isn’t it? It would be easier if it was only sexual.” Will stewed in frustration for a moment – at himself, at Hannibal, at the very concept of romance. “Hell, if you could solve it just by bending me over, we’d handle it just fine.”

“Would we?” Hannibal asked, his eyes brighter than before. Will looked at him properly, saw the dilation of his pupils, the fidgeting of his fingers. He was exerting a subtle pressure on his coat where it sat in his lap. “Would you be fine with being bent over so I could work out my feelings on you?”

Will opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There was nothing _sanitized_ about the way Hannibal was looking at him, yet still, he didn’t feel objectified. His body was hot; he could feel the blood in his cheeks and ears, and elsewhere.

“It’s both,” Hannibal said. He turned one hand, pressing his palm down over his lap. His coat obscured it, but Will knew, without a doubt, that he had at least a partial erection. “I don’t think anyone else has ever captured my interest the way you have, Will. You constantly surprise me.”

“Do I?” Will asked, his gaze stuck on Hannibal’s hand as it moved, just slightly. “What’s so surprising about me?”

“Most men who call themselves straight imagine themselves as the ones doing the bending over.”

Will’s breath stuttered. He hadn’t pictured it as he’d said it, and now it came to him: an image, frozen in time, of himself bent over the arm of the chair Hannibal was sitting in, bare from the waist down, open and waiting to be– to be treated as Hannibal wanted to treat him. Rough, gentle. He wasn’t sure.

He wanted to know.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’d really want to be bent over,” he said, cautious. He looked back to Hannibal’s eyes, urging him silently to understand his meaning.

“Not yet?” Hannibal asked, radiating pleasure and desire like the sun itself.

“Not yet,” Will agreed. “It would be hard– hard to see your face.”

Something fiery and wild had been ignited in the mirrors of Hannibal’s eyes. Will was enraptured, and watched as that stare moved from his own face, tracing a path slowly to the bed Will slept in, out in the open in his living room.

He barely felt in control of his own arms and legs as he leaned down to set his empty tumbler on the floor, rising to his feet as it sat with a dull noise. He had to put an arm on the chair to steady himself, especially as he kept his eyes trained on Hannibal, soaking up his every reaction, but he managed to not trip over himself as he crossed to his bed, shedding his shirt.

Hannibal stood in kind, discarding his coat on the chair behind him. Will could finally see his erection clearly, obscene as it pushed at the front of his pants.

“I could be,” Will said, his voice low and quiet as he sat down on the bed, “on my back.”

“You could be.” Hannibal prowled over like a predator, but not one pursuing prey – one pursuing a mate. “You could put your legs on my shoulders.”

Will shuddered in spite of himself. “I’m not sure if I’d like that.”

Hannibal’s smile returned, fanning the fire in his dark eyes. “Let’s find out.”


End file.
